


one minute and fifty-two seconds

by shuanime



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Wholesome Love, boohoon here is the epitome of love in all angles, transcends platonic or romantic shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26494645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuanime/pseuds/shuanime
Summary: jihoon is in a search for the perfect gift when seungkwan only wishes for time to freeze when he's with him
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan & Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Boo Seungkwan/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 70





	one minute and fifty-two seconds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wooziwinks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooziwinks/gifts).



> hello pal! 
> 
> this fic comeesh is a soft soft one :] i listened to soft playlists the whole time i was writing this! thank you for the support. i hope this is a good birthday gift :)
> 
> it's earlier than expected but happy birthday! 
> 
> i hope u like this hehehe i think boohoon now has a special place in my heart

The usual neon blue lights in his studio are off, Jihoon opting for the bright main lights. The kids asked for it, saying it’s too dark to play, but they seem to have forgotten—too occupied with the charades game that they’re playing on Jihoon’s white leather couch. After a whole day and night of recording for the vocal unit, Jihoon can feel his bones turn into literal dust. But this is always better than being stuck in dance practices until the sun shines again, until none of them can feel their toes and limbs. No—it’s always better when Jihoon is in charge than when Soonyoung is. At least that means he’s sitting for the most part.

That’s why the rest of his _little ones_ (as Jihoon likes to call them in his head) are still pumped with energy despite the clock ticking just fifteen minutes before midnight. Seokmin and Seungkwan are still on their feet, acting out a word that was hastily scribbled on the paper they pulled from a bowl that’s only the tiniest bit greasy from the chips that were in it earlier that day. Jisoo, who is seated on the couch next to a dozing Jeonghan, is clapping, laughing at their antics, only pausing to make a terribly wrong guess of what the word may be.

At some point, the rules of the game becomes altered, unspoken yet that’s how every game ends up for them, anyway, and now Seungkwan has his host voice on and is coaxing Seokmin into singing a funny rendition of Pinwheel while Jisoo cheers in the _crowd_ of only Jeonghan and himself. And it’s funny, that’s why Jihoon has this smile on his face that he can’t erase.

That, and Jihoon can’t take his eyes away from Seungkwan.

There are habits, some idiosyncrasies that Jihoon can’t help noticing whenever he watches him from a distance. They’re not exactly being hidden—Jihoon doesn’t think Seungkwan is even aware he does them. Zooming like a camera lens, Jihoon’s eyes are automatically drawn to every bit, to every single oddity.

Seungkwan hides his face behind his hand, pressing his lips together in embarrassment—not all the time, only when he gets conscious of the eyes on him. But Jisoo nods and laughs, supportive of their silliness, and Seokmin carries on shamelessly from next to him, so Seungkwan gets another burst of energy to continue what he’s doing, and he goes on and on and on until he feels like it’s too silent, the air devoid of _fun_ for him to keep up. It’s minuscule, and maybe a lot of their members also see that in Seungkwan, but Jihoon basks in the fact that, at this moment, he’s the one thinking about it.

To Jihoon, the third youngest looks like a one of a kind cherry blossom, perennial and enduring through the seasons, dancing in the spring air, even though it’s currently winter, just days after Jisoo’s end-of-the-year birthday celebration. In a week, it’s going to be Seungkwan’s day, and that’s what’s boggling Jihoon’s mind for quite _some_ time.

Maybe he should take Seungkwan in Japan this spring, just to compare his beauty up close with the pink flowers—No. That would be way too late, a treat more than a birthday gift.

Maybe he can ask Seungkwan to go on a date with him.

Frowning, Jihoon goes to every possible way that could end. That won’t do. The members will sniff it out and try to tag along. If he could just have him to himself for just a bit…

Lost in his thoughts, Jihoon doesn’t feel the pair of eyes trained on him. Idling from beside a thoroughly entertained Jisoo, Jeonghan watches Jihoon… watch Seungkwan.

The second eldest doesn’t feel like Jihoon is snapping out of his thoughts any time soon, so he walks to him. Just as he thought—Jihoon doesn’t even react when Jeonghan pulls a chair to sit next to him.

“Seriously, Ji?” Jeonghan chuckles at the look on his face, jolting Jihoon out of his daydream. Jihoon bows his head, tips of his ears reddening as he feels exposed. “Take a picture—it’ll last longer.”

“Already did,” he mumbles, mind automatically going to some thousands of Seungkwan’s pictures (selfies and gag pictures Jihoon took when the other is asleep) on his phone. So adorable.

Jeonghan shakes his head, taking in this side of Jihoon’s. When it comes to Seungkwan, he can _try_ , but he’ll always fail in reining his feelings in.

 _Ah_ , _youth_.

Stretching his limbs, Jeonghan asks, “What do you plan for his birthday—”

“Something _big_.” Jihoon jumps in as quickly as he could, prompting Jeonghan to raise a brow at the suddenness of his answer. “Something you haven’t thought of.”

Years of working with him and friendship with him turned Jeonghan into an expert in deciphering this slab of stone. Jeonghan stares at him, disappointedly.

“You don’t have any.”

That takes Jihoon aback, but he wonders why he’s even surprised that Jeonghan knows. Might as well ask for help, Jihoon thinks. Jeonghan can see through him all the time, anyway. Stammering a little at how transparent he seems to the older, Jihoon replies, “Yeah, well. If you help me, maybe I’d have something.”

Brushing off the shyness because Jihoon responds better when you _pretend_ he’s not being bashful, Jeonghan gives it some thought, rubbing his chin. “What do you want to do for him?”

“What have I _not_ done for his birthday?” Big box of surprises. He has written songs for him, played them for him (in private, of course.) It’s not a gift anymore as much as it’s an everyday thing if he buys him something because ever since they knew each other, Jihoon hasn’t bought a single thing for himself without buying something, anything for Seungkwan along with it. Jihoon rubs his forehead as he starts to get frustrated. “I’ve been thinking about this since last year—trying to come up with anything new.”

Since last year? The dedication, Jeonghan thinks, is amazing.

“Well, you could always go for something practical. What do you think he needs right now? Maybe a new in-ear. Or a new phone—”

“Fans give him that all the time. I want something different. Something only I can get for him.”

“ _Jihoon_ ,” Jeonghan sighs as he looks at him as if he’s being unbelievable right now. “No one can know that except for you.”

“I know. That’s why it doesn’t help to ask for help.”

For a moment, Jeonghan stares into space while Jihoon does the same from beside him as the other three create a ruckus. They’re both sucked in Jihoon’s previous thinking bubble of what to get Seungkwan for his birthday.

(Jisoo watches them from the corner of his eye. They look absolutely stupid—the two of them, spacing out like that.)

“What if Joshuji and I corner him with questions tomorrow at dinner?” He offers. It could be the perfect plan since the vocal unit usually goes to dinner together. Squinting, Jihoon looks at him suspiciously, unconvinced that this could work at all.

“Wouldn’t that be too…” Jihoon scratches his head. “I don’t know— _straightforward?_ Aren’t we better off just demanding for what he likes? That’s not much of a gift…”

“That’s what Shuji and I have been doing ever since!” Now that Jihoon thinks about it, he does just tell Jeonghan and Jisoo what he wants and he gets exactly that for his birthday. It’s not the sentiment—the two focus more on the practical gift, making sure you really want what you got.

Jeonghan continues, “He knows it’s his birthday. And he _knows_ we’re getting him something, of course—we always do that. At least, this way, we can buy him whatever he asks for and you can get an idea and invent your own gift based on his answers.”

Jihoon really doubts this would go well for him.

“So? What do you say?”

But it’s not like he has something else up his sleeve.

He opens his mouth, but before he could utter another word, Seungkwan’s voice is filling his ears.

“Jihoon-hyung! Play one of those funky beats you got there,” Seungkwan calls out to him, beaming excitedly with Seokmin acting like a weird mix of his pigeon impression and a club DJ. He doesn’t know when the charades game turned into _whatever that is_ —or how it’s even possible. “It’s party time!”

Jihoon scoffs a laugh at how ridiculous they are, but to be honest, he’s trying so hard not to melt at how Seungkwan looks endearing right now. “You two are impossible,” he mutters as he scrambles to do exactly as Seungkwan says. Turning to his setup, he clicks a few buttons, and in no time, music is blasting through the speakers.

“Whipped,” Jeonghan comments from beside him, poking at his side, which he answers with a flick of his finger at the older.

“Shut up.”

Feeling his face heat up, Jihoon turns around to hide his face from his hyung, but Jeonghan delights at the way Jihoon’s crimson ears speak for himself.

“Don’t worry, Hoonie.” Jeonghan stands, patting his back twice as comfort. He figures he should go join in the chaos with the others. “I hope we get you that gift idea.”

 _Yeah, right,_ Jihoon thinks as he hears Jeonghan’s wolf-whistling—a distant, “ _Seokmin, you look like a seal! Very sexy!”_

_I hope so, too._

* * *

“So, Kwannie,” Jeonghan chips in the middle of a conversation about stuff that happened earlier this morning. “What do you want for your birthday?”

Jokingly, Seungkwan sighs, “At least keep it a surprise, Jeonghan-hyung.”

“It’s the same thing! Shua and I are paying for it anyway.”

“You’re the worst gift-giver,” Seungkwan says, but there’s no hint of real dourness—just playful quips. One thing about the two of them is that they want to know exactly what the members want. There’s no element of surprise, but it’s filled with love, with thought.

“I know, right? So just tell me.” Jeonghan reaches across the table for a dumpling, chopsticks pointing out. “Jihoon will take care of the surprise.”

Jihoon stills upon the mention of his name. He doesn’t seem like he’s tuning in the conversation, too engrossed in his musings.

Seungkwan turns to look at him. Surely, his Jihoon-hyung is a busy man, and Seungkwan wouldn’t want to disturb him in any way. He already buys Seungkwan random things (seriously _random_ things that he wouldn’t even think of buying for himself, but Jihoon gets them matching stuff anyway) and treats him to meals and even snacks. Besides, Seungkwan has a solo schedule to record his new OST song next week, on the same day as his birthday. There wouldn’t be time to ask Jihoon to celebrate with him, just the two of them. With all the members, they’d have to settle on a celebration after Seungkwan’s schedule.

_That’s too bad._

It’s not something to be too sad about, Seungkwan tells himself. There is plenty more time after his birthday. He waited for a year to celebrate his birthday, what’s a few days more? He could just ask Jihoon out on a coffee date (in which he’s sure the older will pay because he’s just like that, wanting everyone to rely on him despite acting like it’s troublesome—that’s just his front, don’t be deceived), and that would be enough.

Just the company, the time with him would be enough.

Jisoo and Jeonghan, however, have given him so much headache. _And_ they offered to buy, so Seungkwan tells them.

“I want Bluetooth speakers from you two,” he says through a mouthful of ramen noodles. “The good kind, okay? Not ones that might blow up anytime.”

Ruffling Seungkwan’s hair, an action that warms his heart, Jeonghan snickers, “Your wish is our command, birthday boy.”

“How about me?” Seokmin points to himself with the chopsticks, excited for what’s going to be assigned to him. He doesn’t do this much—Seokmin gives gifts in the form of thought more than the actual material. A scarf because he saw him sniffle in the cold weather once, a mug because Seungkwan has to drink his tea from somewhere—stuff like that. So, seeing him ask just like Jeonghan and Jisoo did makes Seungkwan want to make fun of him. “What do you want me to give you?”

Seungkwan deadpans, just to tease him, “I want a Ferrari.”

Seokmin’s face drops, eyes widening. Jeonghan and Jisoo just laugh at his face. Seungkwan steals a glance at Jihoon who’s sitting right in front of him, across the dining table next to Seokmin. He’s chuckling with an easy smile on his face.

That’s good, Seungkwan thinks, as he laughs along, declaring that it’s just a joke, that Seokmin can get him whatever he wants to get him, that Seungkwan doesn’t really know how much a Ferrari costs or how to _drive_ it. Jihoon is laughing, so that must mean he’s not lost in his thoughts anymore. Whatever is weighing on the mind of the other, Seungkwan wants to ease it, even just a little.

Dinner passes by in a flurry of leisure and jokes and laughter. That, and by the end of the night, Seungkwan is stuffed. The food was good, his friends were loud and hilarious… and there was that thing that kept bugging him all night—in the best way possible.

Not to toot his own horn, but he thinks he caught Jihoon glancing at him from time to time. Just the mere thought of it makes the butterflies in Seungkwan’s tummy flutter joyfully.

They walk back to the dormitories, and Jeonghan and Jisoo bid their goodbye as the former pulls the latter into his own room. Seokmin already looks half-asleep, so Seungkwan makes it his responsibility to tuck his good friend in bed (not before cleaning up the clutter on it). All that meat and noodles really knocked him out because in no time, he’s snoring.

What Seungkwan doesn’t expect to see when he exits Seokmin’s room is the figure of Jihoon with his back against the wall, idling as he throws his wallet in the air and catching it to entertain himself.

Seungkwan walks up to him, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “If that falls, you owe me coffee.”

Jihoon only throws it higher, catching it in the air like it’s nothing.

“If it doesn’t,” Jihoon says, pocketing the wallet. “You’ll sleepover in my room tonight.”

Snorting at how smooth that was, Seungkwan naturally takes his hand and they walk to the direction of Seungkwan’s room. “I would—if you weren’t spending the night in your studio again.”

Jihoon groans as he hears his doomed reality from the younger’s lips. “I’m swamped.”

“Take it easy. It’s only perfect when you take care of yourself first.” Seungkwan squeezes his hand. If it were someone else, Jihoon would’ve commented on how it’s weird to hold the hand of the _person who writes your songs_ or whatever silly reasons Jihoon could think of to deflect the touch. Glad that he’s an exception, Seungkwan revels in the warmth of his pretty hands.

(Little does he know, Jihoon doesn’t want to let go.)

His room is not even far, but they both drag their feet to make the walk unhurried, to have more time. Jihoon holds his hand gently, like he’s lifting fragile glass, careful not to squeeze to hard or tug too hard. Seungkwan basks in the warmth, in the moment, in this short walk to his room that should only be a few strides away.

And when they get to the door, Seungkwan faces him. “Promise you won’t push yourself too hard?”

Jihoon raises his hand to Seungkwan’s face, fingertips lovingly brushing on the tip of the latter’s nose.

“I promise.” Jihoon says as Seungkwan’s cheeks turn pink, only slightly visible in the dim lit corridors. “Promise you won’t stay up bingeing sports anime again?”

At the exposure of his nighttime habits, Seungkwan laughs, light and airy—music to Jihoon’s ears.

“I promise. I should sleep early, anyway. There’s a photoshoot tomorrow. I want _this_ face,” Seungkwan gestures with a palm under his chin, “shiny and smooth.”

Nodding, Jihoon softly brushes his knuckles on the younger’s prominent cheekbones. It’s barely a touch, but it has Seungkwan’s heart pounding in his chest. “Get some rest, _beautiful_. Knock ‘em dead with your looks tomorrow.”

He can still hear his heart beating wildly, and the compliment makes his face heat up to the roots of his hair. Jihoon puts both his hands in his pockets, and almost immediately, Seungkwan longs for the touch.

“Good night,” Seungkwan stammers, unable to respond.

“Good night.”

For a second they just stand there, Jihoon opening his mouth—perhaps to say something. But then he shakes his head and steps back, flashing Seungkwan another gentle smile with a small nod before turning around to go on his way.

Seungkwan watches his retreating back, noticing that Jihoon is dragging his feet again. Deep in his heart, Seungkwan knows he doesn’t want to leave, too, just as much as Seungkwan wishes he’d stay.

He doesn’t go into his room until Jihoon is out of sight.

 _Just one moment,_ Seungkwan silently wishes, well aware that it’s not his birthday yet, that there might be no one to grant him this, but he prays, anyway. _It doesn’t have to be long._

* * *

Jihoon thumps his knuckles on the wood of the Seungkwan’s closed door, the other hand occupied by a plastic bag with two drinks—a regular-sized hot americano (iced on normal days, but it’s freezing today) for his angel and a small cappuccino for himself.

In the belt bag slung across his body is Seungkwan’s birthday present. The day is tomorrow, but Jihoon won’t get a chance like this anymore, not when Seungkwan is leaving first thing in the morning. The other members are busy in the practice room, going through the newest choreography. Times like this, Jihoon gets a free pass for _supposedly_ working on the songs, but it’s a simple lie he won’t regret if it’s for Seungkwan—a lie the members won’t call him out for, anyway. And Seungkwan has the day to prepare for his schedule tomorrow.

Everyone knows to give him space during times like this when he has something to focus on. Seungkwan is effortless when it comes to—well, when it comes to anything, really. But he can get absorbed in tasks wherein he’s consciously reminded by himself to do well, to perform well and not disappoint. Jihoon thinks he’s perfect the way he is, but Seungkwan is just human. He’s bound to find fault in himself one way or another.

The door opens, and Jihoon pulls his lips into a smile, just to bring a cheery note as the younger’s day ends.

“Good evening, good sir,” he jests, watching the frown on Seungkwan’s face dissipate at the sight of him. “I brought thee some spectacular coffee. Would you mind letting me in?”

“Jihoon-hyung—” Seungkwan’s lips purse as he tries to contain his laughter at the silly voice Jihoon is adopting. He sounds so bad. “You didn’t have to.”

Jihoon doesn’t know how to continue the act, so with a normal tone, he says, “I know you need a boost right now. You’ve been holed up in here the whole day.”

Smiling brightly despite the tired glint in his eyes, Seungkwan steps aside, opening the door wider so Jihoon could pass through.

His room is clean and his bed is made. The only thing out of place is the chair by his desk that is pushed backwards—maybe he was sitting on it before Jihoon knocked. But the room is pristine, as if Seungkwan took his time putting everything in order.

He knows why.

Papers in his hands that Jihoon just noticed, Seungkwan slumps on the bed. Jihoon settles the coffee on the desk, sitting himself on the edge of the bed, lap next to Seungkwan’s head.

“How’s the birthday prince?”

Seungkwan lets out a sigh, a smile still gracing his pretty face. “It’s not until tomorrow, you know.”

“I’m still here to celebrate.”

He tries not to, but his hand seems to have a mind of its own, carding nimble fingers through Seungkwan’s soft locks. Seungkwan hums at the lightest touch, eyes fluttering close, but his brows furrow as if the gentleness bothers him.

Jihoon knows that the recording schedule is flooding his mind, gaining control over the younger’s thoughts.

“You’re gonna do great tomorrow,” he says oh so softly, it’s barely a breath.

Seungkwan’s lips pull into a pout, and there’s a whine in his voice like he can tell Jihoon has a pleased smile on his face despite having his eyes closed. “How do you know that?”

“I don’t have to,” Jihoon says as he puts some pressure onto kneading Seungkwan’s scalp, making the younger’s delicate features relax under his touch, “you show everyone wherever you go that you’re more than amazing.”

“You’re just saying that—”

“It’s true, Kwannie. If there’s anything remarkable in a room, it must be you.”

Seungkwan sputters, face turning red with each word that comes out of Jihoon. He still refuses to open his eyes, but the lighting in his room makes him aware that Jihoon can see his face well. That he’s not just an open book right now—he’s transparent.

And pink, Jihoon thinks. Really pink in the face. Cute.

Seungkwan opens his eyes to look at him. “You’re not this smooth with the others.”

It’s Jihoon’s turn to feel warmth spread across his face.

“Well—it’s not—it’s not like it’s _their_ birthday—”

Moving so that his head is laying on Jihoon’s lap, Seungkwan chuckles at the thought of being capable of making the older flustered, too.

“You love me.”

That makes Jihoon fall silent. But it’s not something he can leave floating in the air, unaddressed. So, he lets himself be honest.

“I really do.”

The comfortable stillness in the room that settles as each of their faces burn in silence is kind of helpful. Jihoon’s fingers continue to massage Seungkwan’s head, stopping to play with his hair or touch the tip of his nose from time to time. Seungkwan closes his eyes again, unable to hold his gaze any longer, or he might just end up powerless.

It’s Jihoon who breaks the silence. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

“S-Sure,” Seungkwan says, trying so hard to contain his excitement at the thought of a sleepover. He clears his throat. “You’re not busy tonight?”

“Cleared everything off my schedule.” Jihoon taps his cheek, gently. “Kwannie? Sit up for me?”

As much as he wants to keep their current position, he also needs to show Seungkwan his present. Sitting up just as he was asked, Seungkwan turns his head to look at Jihoon who’s now rummaging through his belt bag.

“What’s in there?”

Jihoon retrieves a small box, the size of his palm. Seungkwan moves so he’s facing Jihoon properly.

“Happy birthday,” Jihoon says, smiling as he hands Seungkwan the small thing.

Seungkwan’s heart swells at the sight of it. Of course, his Jihoon-hyung would prepare something for him—he always does. It’s just that, with everything going on around them, he didn’t think Jihoon would still have time to get him something. He also tried not to expect anything from the older, seeing as he’s already so spoiled and so, _so_ loved.

Jihoon wonders if the gift is too small, too unworthy of his angel, but he knows he worked on it hard.

The gasp that leaves Seungkwan’s lips as he opens the box and realizes what’s inside is almost heavenly.

“A music box?” Seungkwan mumbles to himself. “What’s the song?”

He’s hunched over, holding the wooden music box in his palms tenderly, like he’s afraid it’ll break under any pressure. But Jihoon knows it can withstand any blow—he did spend most of the week crafting it by himself, after all.

It took him five days, three unsuccessful attempts to get to where it is now. A music box that he made with wood and the crank that he bought online, with a special pen to engrave Seungkwan’s name on the lid. A music box that will play a song that’s only for Seungkwan—a short melody that Jihoon made, perfected while thinking of him.

“Play it,” is what he says, and Seungkwan nods, doing just that.

It’s unbelievable to Seungkwan how Jihoon manages to open his heart all the time, exposing all the feelings and all the love and all the emotions—good or bad, sad or happy. Jihoon brings this tiny box to him when he’s most anxious, when he spent his days cleaning his room in an attempt to feel some semblance of order in his cluttered mind. And Jihoon makes him play the song, and it’s nothing like he has ever heard before.

Sometimes, Seungkwan wonders if Jihoon always knows what can make him happy.

But, at this very moment, he gets the picture.

There’s a huge possibility that Jihoon _himself_ makes him happy, and he would gladly latch on to that chance.

The melody is catchy—it’s soft but it sticks to every corner of Seungkwan’s brain, and it’s as if he’s already internally humming to it.

“What’s the song called?” Seungkwan asks, wondering if the short masterpiece has a name, but Jihoon only shrugs in response.

“I called it _Seungkwan_ in my head the whole time,” comes the answer to his query. “It’s for you—it’s about you.”

There are no lyrics, no words—just a melody that’s so soft it reminds Seungkwan of spring even if his birthday sits as the coldest in the winter. It reminds him of the scent of flowers, the fresh breeze of air. _The good things,_ Seungkwan muses _, Jihoon-hyung gave me something to remember the good things._

And all the heavy things weighing in his heart melt into thin air as he twists the key and lets the song play over and over again, until it’s engraved in his mind. Every time it stops, Seungkwan twists the key and then puts it down to let it play. And then it stops. He twists the key and it plays until it stops—

Jihoon puts a hand on his, capturing his attention. He’s worrying his teeth on his poor lower lips when he asks, “Would you like to dance? With me?”

Seungkwan blinks, shifting upright.

“Yes.”

When Jihoon stands, he follows. Jihoon lets go of his hand to twist the music box’s key, leaving it to let the music play.

 _One minute and fifty-two seconds_ , Jihoon reminds himself. _There’s only that much time until the music ends._

With the music softly playing in the background, Jihoon wraps his arms around Seungkwan’s waist while Seungkwan’s arms naturally snake around his shoulder. It’s the easiest to be in Seungkwan’s embrace because he doesn’t have to crane his neck. Seungkwan stands and they’re eye to eye, and Jihoon thinks it should be impossible for one person to be perfect for him, but here he is—in his arms.

They sway their bodies to the mellow tinkle of the song, Seungkwan’s even breathing tickling the tip of Jihoon’s left ear. Jihoon buries his nose on Seungkwan’s shoulder, getting lost in his fresh scent.

And they stay like that, swaying to the sound, until Jihoon pulls away and takes his hand to twirl him to the part of the melody where it goes a little faster, a little chirpy.

Seungkwan giggles at the sudden change of movements, heart melting at the way Jihoon smiles at him when he does the spin.

“Happy birthday,” Jihoon says quietly as the song comes to an end. They stop swaying, and Seungkwan’s hands travel flat and warm from Jihoon’s shoulders to his hands.

“Thank you,” Seungkwan whispers, realizing how close they are right now. “You might’ve just set the record for the best birthday gift ever.”

Jihoon lets out a snort, one hand leaving Seungkwan’s so he can cup his face. “This is nothing compared to you.” Seungkwan raises a brow, a silent _what do you mean?_ So, Jihoon stares straight in his eyes as he speaks, “You’re the best gift ever.”

“ _Sap_ ,” Seungkwan says, red dusting the tops of his cheeks. He takes the wooden box, twisting the crank again, and then he leaves it to play on the plush bed. “Another dance?”

With hope blooming in his chest that maybe, _maybe_ Seungkwan wants this as much as he does, Jihoon takes his hand, dancing _more_ than the earlier sways. This time they hop and move their hips and make exaggerated motions that earn laughter from each other. If they were in front of the members—or anyone, really—Jihoon would rather crawl in a hole, but like this, with only Seungkwan, he doesn’t feel like he has to hide from the world.

The world fizzles out from around him, and all he can see is the beauty that’s Seungkwan who is shyly chortling at every awkward dance move—timid yet it’s clear that he’s having fun dancing like the world is gone from around him, too.

For the rest of the night, until they felt like they couldn’t anymore, they danced and danced and danced. And the music box stopped playing a long while ago, but they dance to the music still playing in their heads, to the music Seungkwan hums as Jihoon trips over his toes a little.

And they talk about the normal things—Seungkwan’s plans, Jihoon’s work, the member’s little quirks. They talk about how the others will probably surprise him later. They talk about their plans of smearing Seokmin’s handsome face with cake icing just to see how he’ll react.

And they do all that while they sway, twirl, move their bodies to the melody that doesn’t have to be heard—it’s just there.

Suddenly, one minute and fifty-two seconds doesn’t matter.

They have this moment before the clock strikes midnight and the others are filing into Seungkwan’s room with the cake and the birthday song and the rowdy laughter.

They have this moment before the spell is lifted, and maybe, somewhere from above, a star listened to Seungkwan’s wish.

> Whether or not the lips over Jihoon’s lips happened in real life or in a dream, it doesn’t matter.
> 
> It’s sweet.

**Author's Note:**

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